Moments Unsung
by snuggalong
Summary: There are moments when silence says everything that needs to be said, moments when music finds the words for everything you can't bring yourself to say. [Music meme, USUK, implied GiriPan and GerIta, possibly implied ChinaJapan and CanadaEngland]


**Moments Unsung**

* * *

**Angels — David Archuleta**

Italy flinched as yet another bomb fell directly above his head, shutting his eyes tightly to block out the falling dust from the ceiling of the bunker.

His hand groped the front of his shirt, searching for the object he knew was there—a beaded rosary, given to him long ago by one of his priests.

"God of mercy..." he murmured in his native tongue, the prayer falling from his lips as naturally as breathing. "You know the secrets of all—"

Another bomb fell and he flinched again, prayer faltering on his lips. "—of all—" he tried to continue, and jerked, curling into a tight ball as the loudest, largest bomb yet fell.

A minute later, there was a breath of silence, and he looked towards the ceiling he couldn't see.

"You won't forsake me, will you?"

* * *

**Scherzo – C. Webster**

America flitted around the room, laughing raucously and rambling about everything and nothing in particular, hamburger in one hand and drink in the other. The other nations watched with looks of exasperation on their faces, and England was the one to turn to them with a stern, scolding look in his eyes.

"All right, who gave him the double expresso?"

* * *

**Quiet – Lights**

Canada was like a ghost in the forest, flitting over the silent snow and leaving barely a footprint to show his passing. His breath was the smallest cloud of steam, dissipating quickly into the frozen air. In contrast, the figure following behind him was as clumsy as a newborn foal, stumbling over roots and logs and making a general racket as they crashed through the forest.

"Canada, where are we—"

"Shhh," Canada breathed. "Listen. Can't you hear it?"

The other paused, listening, for a moment, and then scowled. "I don't hear anything."

Canada smiled, a beautifully broken thing. "That's just it. It's quiet. Isn't it beautiful?"

"...I suppose it is," England replied, grudgingly, seeing the hope and peace in his former charge's eyes.

* * *

**Wanted – Vanessa Carlton**

Russia smiled, and no one saw how much he was hurting beneath it. No one saw the agony that blazed in his eyes when they ran from him, when they turned their backs and whispered about him behind their hands.

All he ever wanted was to be wanted. They lived in this illusion that Russia was a barren wasteland, home to nothing but his people and him, the most bloodthirsty monster of them all.

But he was real. He was him—he couldn't stop being himself. He wants to be more. He wishes he could be what they want him to be.

If it means they'd look at him with something other than fear in their eyes, just once, he'd do it.

But none of them can see. And so he lives unwanted, praying for the day when someone will dare to look beneath the surface and see the part of him that wants to be held, wants to be cherished, deserves to be loved, deserves to be wanted.

* * *

**21 Guns – Green Day**

Prussia smirked as he stared over the heaving battlefield, eyes alight with an inner sadistic glee, glowing bright crimson in the murky dimness of the evening.

But then pain stabbed him through the heart and that smirk faltered, turning into a grimace, that glee replaced by a flash of sorrow.

One of his own had fallen.

He lives for the battle, for the bloodshed, for the loss of sanity and control, but sometimes he wonders why he's like this.

Why he was born to be this creature that lives only for the pain of others, when all pain comes to an end eventually and he is left without a purpose.

Sometimes he wants nothing more than to cast aside his sword and scream to the sky, to let a bullet pierce him or a blade perforate him and see if it's possible for him to actually die.

Sometimes he tries to let go and just be himself, only to be shoved away by those who would care and told to stop faking sincerity, when he has never been more sincere in his life.

Why can't his people just let go of this hatred? He dies a little inside whenever he goes to war, knowing he will lose more of them, more of them to this hatred that he doubts most of them even understand.

He wants to lose. He wants to give up. Just so that his people will know that there is a possibility of a world without hatred and blood.

* * *

**Tcherepnin: Cello Suite – Movement 2 – Yo-Yo Ma**

China closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the moonlight on his face and the breeze through his clothes. It was a peaceful night.

"China-san. Tea," Japan called from inside.

"Japan, come join me," he called back. "This is a night for reminiscing."

There is a rustle of cloth and the other is sitting beside him. "It is beautiful," Japan agrees.

"That it is..."

* * *

**Sheng: 7 Tunes Heard in China – 1. Seasons – Yo-Yo Ma**

Japan watches the seasons pass and wonders how many he will be there for. Spring, winter, summer fall—he has seen so many and will see many more, but how sure is tomorrow, after all?

Is there any guarantee that he will live to see the snowflakes dance, the leaves turn and fall, the cherry blossoms bloom, the children laugh and play?

* * *

**Your Guardian Angel – The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus**

Germany breaks down, the hacking coughs spreading through his body and scaring the small Italian beside him, who flutters nervously and rubs his back and murmurs reassurances all while looking deathly scared for his life.

Eventually the coughing subsides and he manages a small, weak smile for Italian, who sucks in a breath at the sight of it.

"It...it will be okay, Italy."

The boy smiles back, though it is tremulous; he looks about to cry. "Don't worry about me, Germany. Just worry about yourself...and please, please get better. I can't, I can't..."

He buries his face in his hands and Germany hesitantly reaches out to brush his face. "It will be okay," he repeats.

The Italian shakes his head. "So long as you're here, Germany...yes, it will be. I'll be here, no matter what...but please, be here in return. I have so much to repay..."

Germany shook his head as well. "There is nothing to repay. And...you don't have to stay."

The Italian looked up, strange determination in his eyes. "Yes, I do."

* * *

**Here (In Your Arms) – Hellogoodbye**

America is silent for once, and it almost scares England, sitting beside him in the car on the cliff above San Francisco, staring out at the falling rain, blurring the distant city lights.

They've been sitting there for an hour now, not speaking, and Arthur still can't decipher the emotions running through him, or through Alfred's eyes.

"Alfred?" he finally has the courage to breach the silence, and is surprised when the other mans shushes him.

"Don't ruin it, Arthur," Alfred whispers. "Don't ruin this. Don't bring words into this."

"What am I ruining?" he asks, just as softly.

"This moment," Alfred says, and then leans over to kiss him, softly, just like the raindrops falling on the window, going _shhh_, _shhh, shhh._

* * *

**Twilight – Vanessa Carlton**

Japan looks at the sleeping man beside him in the sunlight and wonders how it came to this. For so many years he was so alone, unsure of the world around him, unable to go forward and unable to go back.

And then Greece came and showed him everything that he could be, the world that was waiting for him if only he would reach out and grasp it.

Grasp it he did—and sometimes...sometimes he reached too far and found himself falling, broken and bloodied, like Icarus in the other man's legends.

But Greece was there to pick him up and help him heal, and help him fly again even when the rest of the world tried to hold him down.

Everyone saw him as a monster. And sometimes, he believed them. But Greece peeled away the misconceptions and helped him see just who he was.

He's seen the darkest pieces of the world and the lightest, the foulest and the most beautiful.

But here in this moment, with no yesterdays or tomorrows to worry about, sitting in the sun with this man beside him, he thinks for once he might just be happy.

* * *

So I read a _Hetalia_ music meme the other day and decided to try it out myself. What followed was sheer insanity as I struggled to use my mad typing skills to make the most out of the limited time I had for each drabble...note that as a classical music fan, some of the songs were only a minute and half long. Try getting a coherent, cohesive idea out of a minute and a half. It's _hard._

I admit to cheating twice, once by skipping Metallica's _One_ because the song is seven or so frickin' minutes long, and once by skipping another _Sheng: Seven Tunes Heard in China_ that showed up. Funny how the one with China in the title didn't turn out to have China in it...I'm sad none of my Vienna Teng music popped up. I hope that was interesting and as a quick note I didn't dare post this while _Shadows of Yesterday_ chapter eight wasn't up yet because I wanted to live a long and healthy life, yeah?

We've even got some USUK in here, possibly implied ChinaJapan and CanadaEngland, and certainly implied Giripan and GerIta. Something for everyone! I just wrote whatever characters popped into my head. No historical accuracy at all, capische? I don't own _Hetalia_, or the music, or much of anything actually, just whatever words this insanity produced. See ya'll soon!

—Erin


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